


A Proper Couch

by Zigster



Category: The Queen's Gambit (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Italian Leather, Just shy of being crack-fic, Shamelessly using Benny as a dress-up doll, Shopping, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27764575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zigster/pseuds/Zigster
Summary: Beth buys Benny some new clothes and a proper couch.
Relationships: Beth Harmon & Benny Watts, Beth Harmon & Jolene, Beth Harmon/Benny Watts
Comments: 17
Kudos: 287





	A Proper Couch

**Author's Note:**

> I was discussing this fabulous series on the HP discord and had the thought— _wouldn't it be great to see a side scene of Beth showing up to the apartment with like four butler types trailing in behind her carrying decor and drapes and a COUCH and a rolling rack of nice clothes for Benny to wear, turning him into her very own dress-up doll?!_
> 
> Then I had to write it. 
> 
> This silliness was given a whole lot of beta love by both Nerdherderette and Lastontheboat! Thank you, bebs!

* * *

Jolene eyes the steward from behind her champagne glass. She runs her hand over the cream-colored, tufted velvet seat she’s perched on and winks at the man. It sends him skittering away, blushing furiously. She snorts and downs her drink in one go, raising the flute high above her head. Another steward quickly refills it to the brim then disappears behind the curtain. 

“This is the good life,” she sighs, reclining further into the upholstery and sinking her bare toes into the plush carpet at her feet. 

“Hmm?” Beth hums, too distracted by a green-and-grey tweed coat fitted with carved onyx buttons she’s spotted on a nearby display. 

Jolene tsks before standing and walking over to the clothing rack filled with what Beth has deemed ‘acceptable choices’. She pushes Beth’s selections to and fro on their satin hangers, surveying them with a raised brow. 

“Why are you doing this again?” 

Beth looks at her sideways, her large brown eyes widening for a mere second before shifting back to the tweed coat in her hands. “Just 'cause.” 

“Mmmhmmm. _Just 'cause_ you wanna drop a fortune on this pretty little white boy?” 

“I never said he was pretty.” 

“You didn’t have to.” 

It’s Beth’s turn to tsk as she rolls her eyes and adds the tweed coat to the rolling rack. 

“We’re done here,” she calls out, and yet another steward magically appears to roll the rack off to god knows where. Jolene laughs at the spectacle of it all. She slips her shoes back on as Beth dons her coat. 

“Where to next?” Jolene asks, highly amused. Beth’s only response is a small twist of her lips. 

  
. . . 

Violent, resounding bangs boom throughout Benny’s apartment as someone rudely slams their fist repeatedly against his steel door. It results in an instant headache and an overwhelming need to throttle whoever is on the other side. 

“I’m coming!” Benny shouts over the din. He curses as he stumbles from his cross-legged perch on the floor where he’d been meditating, kicking chess pieces aside and knocking over abandoned takeaway coffee cups along the way. 

“What?” he growls as he wrenches open the door, only to be greeted by a black woman wearing a devious smile and sporting a bright silk scarf tied around her perfectly coiffed afro-style hairdo. 

“Um, hello,” Benny says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry . . . for shouting.” 

“Nice robe.” 

Benny tilts his head to the side. “Do I know you?” 

The woman snorts and steps aside, revealing Beth who's dressed in all-white, complete with a matching Ushanka. 

Beth smirks. “Hello, Benjamin.” 

“You never call me that.” Benny inadvertently steps back, allowing the women to pass lest he be trampled by their boot heels. 

“Come on through,” Beth calls out behind her. Benny looks back at the doorway, only to find not one, not two, not three, but four men dressed in red blazers with gold buttons carrying a multitude of boxes and bags, and is that a— 

“Hey!” Benny moves to block the doorway before a large leather Chesterfield couch can make its way past his threshold. “No!” 

“But Benjamin, it’s Italian leather,” Beth says. 

“I don’t give a shit.” 

Beth’s friend snorts again, turning to hide her laughter in her fist. Beth grins and instructs the men to arrange the couch in front of the clawfoot tub. Placed behind it is a Japanese room divider Beth bought on a whim. The effect is tasteful yet bohemian, and still evokes an air of ‘egotistical bachelor’ with its pretension. More importantly, it does the much-needed job of eradicating the view of the shower from the rest of the living room. 

“Perfect,” she says, tipping each of the stewards in turn as Benny attempts to dodge the men stomping about his place. “Thank you, gentlemen. Leave the rolling rack on the landing, will you?” She bids them adieu with a twiddle of her white-gloved fingers. 

“Rolling rack?” Benny asks with his hands in his hair while standing on the coffee table, considering it’s the only surface left in the apartment without any bags or boxes. 

Beth points towards the door where, sure enough, a rolling rack of clothing remains on the landing as the men who invaded his home slam the steel door shut in a whirlwind of red blazers and glinting buttons. 

“The fuck?” 

This time, a full out bark of laughter erupts from Beth’s friend, bending over at the hip in her amusement. “Cracker, your boy is hilarious.” 

“He’s not mine,” Beth says as Benny simultaneously asks, “What'd you say?” from his perch on the coffee table. 

The silence that follows is most decidedly awkward as Beth and Benny stare at each other from across the room. Benny’s exposed chest rises and falls beneath his myriad of necklaces as Beth slips her gloves off, one loosened fingertip at a time. 

“Well, this is cozy,” Beth’s friend ventures as she takes a seat on the new Chesterfield. 

“Thank you,” Beth says with a small bow. 

Benny, brow furrowed, points at them both in turn. “No, and no. No cozy. No couches. No clothes.” He’s about two seconds away from stomping his foot like a damn child, his hair having fallen completely into his face.

Beth grins at him. “You haven’t even seen them yet,” she says. 

“I’ve seen enough.” 

“You’re rude.” 

Benny looks to the woman on the couch, his mouth agape. “I’m rude?” 

“Mmmhmm.” 

He points at Beth. “She—!” he blurts, then falters. 

The woman nods solemnly. “Yup. She did.” Then she stands and holds out her hand. “I’m Jolene, by the way.” 

Benny shuts his mouth and returns the handshake. “Benny Watts. Nice to meet you.” 

“Can’t say the same,” she retorts with a wink. Benny blinks at her. She laughs again and shuffles back to the couch, plopping down as if she owns the place. 

“This really is a nice couch, Beth.” 

Nodding, Beth says, “I agree.” 

“Adds some class to the room.” 

“It needed it.” 

“Mmmmhmm.” 

Benny steps down from the coffee table and walks backwards towards the bedroom, retreating from the two women who have taken over his home. Beth advances on him before he can get very far. “Not so fast,” she says, pulling him towards the landing near the door. He plants his feet, his long legs coming to a halt as he grabs her wrist, stopping them both in their tracks. 

“No,” he says, adamant. 

“Yes,” Beth says right back. 

“Do you know what ‘no’ means?” 

Beth feigns confusion, placing a finger to her lip. “Hmm.” 

“Beth, stop. This is too much.” 

His tone is beyond earnest, even vulnerable.

. . .

It makes Beth look at him, really look. What she sees in his dark eyes is true pleading. Somehow, somewhere her well-meaning grand gesture has gone pear-shaped. 

She drops his arm and takes a step back. “Wait, really?” 

Benny doesn’t let her go. Instead, he follows her retreat, his face still stern yet open. 

The sudden tension enveloping the room like a heavy quilt causes Jolene to stand and quickly make her way to the door. She fishes a pack of cigarettes out of her purse along the way. 

“I’m just gonna—” She points towards the door with her thumb, “yeah.” She wrenches the door open and makes a hasty exit. “Just be out front,” she calls back before making her way up the stairs. The heavy door shuts closed, cutting off the sound of her bootheels echoing off the cement walls in the stairwell. 

Beth hasn’t looked away from Benny’s face since his confession of “this is too much” ruined her mood and the upbeat nature of the day. Four simple syllables and she suddenly feels lower than she has in months. She resents Benny for doing that to her, and worse, she’s disappointed in herself for allowing him to have that kind of sway over her emotions. She’s stronger than that.

Benny’s thumb is rubbing back and forth across the crook of her elbow, the sensation causing a shiver to run down her spine. She wrenches free and folds both arms across her middle.

“Fine,” she says, her head held high. “Play for it?” 

“For what?” 

“I win, you try on something from that rack.” 

“I win, and you take it all away.” 

“Nope.” 

“How is that fair?” 

Beth tsks and smiles at him, allowing her frustration to seep into her expression. “It’s not about fair. It’s about practicality. It took three men to carry that couch down here. You think I’m as strong as three men?” 

Benny smirks. “I have no doubt.” 

Looking away, Beth rolls her eyes and lets her hair hide her face, hoping it conceals her blush. It was a cheap retort, an easy win. She hates that she walked right into it. Straightening her shoulders, she levels Benny with a blasé stare. “You in?” 

He runs a hand through his hair, brushing it off his forehead. It flops back down immediately, much to Beth’s amusement. He sighs, making a show of things before giving a single dramatic nod of his head and seating himself on the floor. He tucks in his long legs and begins picking up the scattered pieces of his chess set. Beth follows suit, collecting pawns and rooks from here and there all around them. 

“There’s nothing wrong with owning real furniture,” she tells him as she arranges the black pieces just so on the board. 

“I own furniture.” 

“Now you do.” 

He gestures behind her. “Look, that thing is massive.” 

“It’s a proper couch. With a pull-out mattress. You can have guests now.” 

“I have a blow-up—”

“That’s a pool toy. Not a mattress. I would know.” 

Sighing, Benny collects the kings and hides them in his palms behind his back. He holds out his hands, silently inviting her to pick. Beth drags a neat fingernail from his wrist all the way down to his knuckle, watching as gooseflesh erupts in its wake. She grins as Benny quickly flips his arm, revealing the white king. He grimaces and turns the board. Beth folds her hands beneath her chin and waits. 

After a minute of staring across the board at each other, she says, “Well? You going to start my clock?” 

. . . 

Jolene knocks loudly with a closed fist. She’s allowed them well over an hour. All of her cigarettes are now smoked and she’s frozen through. Huddling on a cold stoop in Brooklyn Heights in late November without even a joint for entertainment is not her idea of a good time. 

“You two about done?” She shouts.

Beth opens the door, a wicked grin plastered on her face. Jolene raises an eyebrow at her. 

“So?” 

Stepping back, Beth allows Jolene to see into the apartment and the sight of Benny seated on the Chesterfield with his arms draped across the back, left ankle folded over his right knee, still barefoot. He’s wearing a crisp dove-grey button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Jolene remembers Beth picking out the shirt for him along with the suede waistcoat that's paired on top, with its mother-of-pearl buttons. _“He’ll still be a cowboy,”_ Beth had said, _“just a nicer looking one.”_

“I’m impressed.” Jolene gives him a small hand of applause. Benny gamefully bows his head. 

“Wait, so you just . . . played chess and dress-up?” Jolene asks. 

Beth shrugs. “Yeah. Why?” 

Sighing, Jolene shakes her head and turns around to head back up the stairs. 

Beth calls out after her. “Where are you going?” 

“Out!” Jolene hollers back, and then mumbles, “To find a coffee shop to hide in until you idiots finally fuck and actually make up.” 

Fin. 

* * *


End file.
